


speak your mind

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Radio, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3548249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire accidentally becomes the host of a radio show and has to deal with an extremely persistent caller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	speak your mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maraudeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudeuse/gifts).



> For [maraudeuselunaire](http://maraudeuselunaire.tumblr.com/), who was one of the winners of the fic giveaway I did on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/). I hope you like it!

“Grantaire...”

“No,” Grantaire said. It was a pretty good default response. It was an even better response when he was about to go home and didn’t want to get stuck at work until midnight because someone wanted him to do them a favor.

_Someone_ , in this case, was Courfeyrac. And he had his I-need-you-to-do-me-a-favor face on. Grantaire knew that face all too well. And he didn’t like it.

“Please,” Courfeyrac said and added his puppy eyes to the mix, “I need you to do me a favor.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No fucking way.”

Courfeyrac sat down next to him. “I know that it’s Friday night,” he said, “and I know that you probably have plans, you know, just like everyone else, but we all know that you’re really good at talking, which is why you’re the man for the job.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “What job?” Well, this was a radio station, most of the jobs here had a lot to do with talking. But Grantaire was in charge of the station’s website. Which meant that he did absolutely no talking. At least not on air.

“Look, you know that girl who does _Speak Your Mind_?” Courfeyrac said, not waiting for Grantaire to reply. “She can’t come in today. Personal reasons. So I need someone else to do it.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Personal reasons,” Courfeyrac said, wiggling his eyebrows, which basically meant that he was planning on having a lot of sex tonight. Or at least more sex than Grantaire was going to have if he agreed to help Courfeyrac out. He did understand why Courfeyrac didn’t want to do it. He spent most of his free time at the station as it was, he needed a break too every now and then.

“Why don’t you just cancel the show and play some music?” Grantaire asked. “Because, in case you forgot, I design your flyers and your posters and make sure your website looks nice.”

Courfeyrac firmly shook his head. “We don’t cancel shows.”

“Courf, this is a college radio station, it’s not the end of the world.”

“But it’s one of our most successful shows.”

“ _Speak Your Mind_ is one of our most successful shows?” Grantaire asked, not even trying to hide his disbelief. It was on air on Friday evening. When pretty much every college student was busy having a life and _not_ listening to the radio. Anyway, that show basically just discussed topics like stress relief during exam season or useful tips on how to survive living with a roommate you didn’t like. People called to throw in their two cents and usually the discussion was completely off-topic by the third caller.

“Believe it or not, it is. People like hearing themselves talk on the radio,” Courfeyrac said, grinning at him. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure you’d have so much fun hosting. Cosette would be there to pick callers for you, all you’d have to do is push a button and talk into the microphone. You’ve watched us all do it a billion times.”

“Why can’t Cosette do it?”

“Because she said no,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug, “but apparently she thinks that you’d be much better at it than her.”

“You’re going to lose so many listeners if I do this,” Grantaire muttered. “Honestly, I’m not likeable or anything. It’d be a disaster.”

“That’s not true,” Courfeyrac said and gave him a nudge. “I like you.”

“You like everyone.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I won’t make you,” he said, putting his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, “but I have faith in your charm. And in case everything goes wrong, just make sure to mention that you won’t be back next week.”

Grantaire sighed. He’d always wanted to try hosting a show, but that didn’t mean that it was a good idea. Seriously, he was in charge of the _website_. Although Courfeyrac did have a point, he was pretty good at talking. Most of the time he talked a lot of shit, but still. Courfeyrac wouldn’t ask him if he thought he’d fuck this up.

“If I do this...” Grantaire said, his lips twitching when Courfeyrac’s face lit up. “If I do this, you owe me.”

Courfeyrac nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, I so do.”

“And you’re not going to complain if you end up getting a lot of angry emails.”

“Come on, just don’t insult anyone for one hour,” Courfeyrac said. “It’s gonna be fun, I promise.”

Grantaire sighed. “Right. Well, I suppose I’ll do it, then.”

Courfeyrac grinned broadly and gave him a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you.”

* * *

“What to do when you’re alone on Valentine’s Day?” Grantaire asked, staring down at the slip of paper that Cosette had handed to him. “Seriously?”

“It’s relevant,” Cosette said, smiling sweetly. “There’ll be tons of lonely people on Valentine’s Day and they’ll be happy to talk to you about it.”

“I’m not a therapist.”

“You don’t have to be.” Cosette guided him over to the chair he’d be sitting in for the next hour or so and gently pushed him down on it. “I’ll pick the callers for you, sort out the drunk people and the crying people and you’ll just ask them what their name is and what they have to say and then you listen and thank them for calling. That’s it.”

“Well, I guess I can do that.”

“Of course you can. Do you want coffee?”

“Irish coffee,” Grantaire whispered.

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great,” Cosette said and squeezed his arm. “I’ll get you a _regular_ coffee.”

Grantaire took a deep breath. He still had fifteen minutes before the start of the show. And he could totally do this. Although he really could have used an Irish coffee. Or maybe a beer. He was pretty sure that he’d find one if he had time to look for it. And if he wasn’t currently frozen in his seat.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Cosette said when she returned with his coffee. She showed him which buttons to push, even though Grantaire wasn’t exactly sure if he was going to remember, then she put a pair of headphones on his head.

The next twelve or so minutes until the show started went by way too quickly and all of a sudden he was live on air. Luckily it only took him about two seconds to remember how to speak.

Grantaire cleared his throat. Which was probably a bad move when you were live on the radio. “Good evening, everyone. As you might have just now noticed, this is not the angelic voice that usually greets you on Friday night for _Speak Your Mind_. My name’s Grantaire and I’m helping out tonight. Don’t worry, it’s just a one-time thing.”

Cosette gave him a thumbs-up from behind the window. So far so good.

“Today we’ll be talking about…” Grantaire looked down at the sheet of paper that Cosette had put on the desk in front of him. It had today’s topic on it, the phone number that people could call, things he needed to mention in course of the show. He was wondering if someone was going to rip his head off if he opted for a last-minute topic change. Probably. “What to do when you’re alone on Valentine’s Day. Which is probably relevant to a lot of you, so call us and tell us what you’re going to do instead of paying horrendous amounts of money for overpriced chocolate and uncomfortable dinners at restaurants that somehow tried to squeeze in a few more tables for the special occasion.”

He rattled off the number that people were supposed to call, pointed out the Valentine’s Day deals of some of their sponsors and then he got to deal with his first caller. Surprisingly, things were going pretty well. Grantaire cracked a joke here and there, the people who called all seemed nice enough, although most of them were also pretty boring. But Courfeyrac had been right, people did like hearing themselves talk. One girl even called to reply to one of the previous callers, inviting her to the party she’d be having with some of her friends.

“Well, there you go, Jen, if you hear this, please call us again and we’ll make sure that the two of you can get in touch.” He looked up at Cosette. “Let’s see if we have time for one more caller.”

Cosette nodded and put one more person through.

“Hello, last caller. What’s your name?”

“My name is Enjolras.” And Enjolras had a very, very nice voice. But hey, that was so not the point.

“Good evening, Enjolras,” Grantaire said. “Thanks for calling. Pray tell, what tips do you have for people who are spending Valentine’s Day on their own?”

“Actually…” Enjolras said and the way he said it didn’t bode well for what was about to follow. It was amazing how someone could put so much meaning into a single word. “My advice is to get a grip, because it’s just a normal day. There are so many issues that are worth discussing and yet here we are, talking about how to spend a regular evening.”

It took Grantaire a couple of seconds to come up with something to say to Enjolras. He definitely had a point, but it was probably a bad idea to just outright  _agree_ with him. Cosette, behind the window, had buried her face in her hands. “Well, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, “even though this issue doesn’t seem important to you, it obviously is to some people.”

“Which is a clear indicator that some people need to rethink their priorities,” Enjolras shot back. “You have a platform here, you could bring up issues that really matter. Have you ever thought about that?”

“Have _I_ ever thought about that?” Grantaire asked. “Or have the people in charge of this show ever thought about that? Or the people who run the station?”

“All of the above,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire had to resolve this diplomatically. He wasn’t sure if he could get fired for ruining a show that wasn’t even his, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He needed his job at the station. More importantly, he _liked_ his job. “To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it, since I’m usually not in charge of this show. I’m not sure if you’ve ever tuned in before, but since you seem to know so much about the topics this show has dealt with, I suppose you have. So you will have noticed that I’m just helping out. And I obviously can’t speak for any of the people in charge.”

“You _should_ think about it,” Enjolras insisted. “While I understand that the topics that are usually discussed on this show are helpful to some, they are also discussed a lot elsewhere.”

“I gather you have topic suggestions?” Grantaire asked, even though he knew that he shouldn’t. He needed to wrap it up and say goodbye. Cosette only rolled her eyes at him.

“I do,” Enjolras said, “I’m sure people would be interested in–”

“Hey, look,” Grantaire interrupted, “time’s up, but why don’t you send us an email with the topics you’d like us to touch on.”

“Do you think I haven’t tried that yet?”

“Well, I promise I’ll look at your suggestions personally and mark the ones I like with my favorite pink highlighter and I’ll pass them on to–”

Enjolras huffed. “You’ll pass them on to someone who doesn’t care.”

“Look, man, this isn’t my show, just call again next week,” Grantaire said, grinning at Cosette’s completely horrified expression.

“I will,” Enjolras said. “And I’ll also write you that list.”

“Is that how you’re going to spend Valentine’s Day? Writing that list for me?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, sounding like he was in physical pain, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Well, have fun doing that,” Grantaire said, biting back a laugh. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with. It was a pleasure talking to you, Enjolras.” He quickly closed the line. “Alright, folks, that’s it for this week’s _Speak Your Mind_. It was a pleasure being your humble host for the evening. Tune in next week for business as usual. Enjoy the rest of your evening and, if you’re planning on going out, drink safely.”

A second after he’d stopped talking the red on air sign went off and Cosette was standing next to him giving him a murderous look. “ _Drink safely_?”

“This is a _college_ station,” Grantaire said by way of explaining. “And it’s Friday night. What do you think most of your listeners will be doing tonight?”

“And you told that guy to call again next week,” Cosette went on, completely unfazed. “Thank you ever so much for that, it’s going to be a delight.”

“Well, just don’t put him through,” Grantaire said with a shrug.

“I’ll still have to deal with him on the phone,” Cosette said with a sigh. “Anyway, well done.” She ruffled his hair. “I’ll forward the best complaints to you tomorrow.”

“Aw, come on,” Grantaire said and winked at her, “I was delightful.”

“You also called Woody Allen a douchenozzle and while I don’t disagree, there will be people who’ll complain. There are always people who complain.”

Grantaire only grinned at her.

“You also said that Nicholas Sparks adaptions are films where diversity goes to die.” She laughed. “Man, I can’t wait to read those emails.”

“Please also get me that list of topics that that Enjolras dude wants us to talk about on the show.”

“You know,” Cosette said, “I wonder if that was Courfeyrac’s friend Enjolras.”

Grantaire shrugged. “No idea.” He didn’t know any friends of Courfeyrac’s, except the ones who also worked at the station. Most of them were Grantaire’s friends, too.

“Anyway, I’ll make sure to send you a best of email,” Cosette said. “I should head home and get some sleep, we have two new kids coming in tomorrow morning and if they’re anything like us, they’ll be completely unbearable.”

Grantaire snorted. “Have fun.”

* * *

“Grantaire…”

Grantaire only groaned in response. Speaking was bad. People speaking were bad, too. Noises were bad in general.

Courfeyrac laughed. “Are you hungover?”

Grantaire groaned again, this time in affirmation.

“What the hell are you doing here, then?”

Well, even when he wasn’t hungover, Grantaire liked to hang out at the station. He didn’t have his own desk or anything, because he could also work on the website at home and everyone just sent him emails when they wanted him to change something or if there were any problems. He usually sat down in the break room, not only because there was free food, but also because people came and went and if he wasn’t ridiculously busy, he had a chat with them.

Not today, though. Today he’d left his apartment at eight in the morning – well, that was really fucking early for him – and had relocated to the station because there’d been some construction work going on right under his window. He’d got a really nice breakfast bagel and a massive cup of coffee on the way and now he was trying to catch up on sleep. And Courfeyrac needed to respect that.

So Grantaire only said, “I’m sleeping.”

“Alright,” Courfeyrac muttered and Grantaire could hear the smile in his voice.

The door clicked shut and Grantaire was fast asleep almost instantly. When he woke up again, he found that someone had draped his coat over him. And someone had stuck a post-it note to his cheek.

_Come see me in my office – Courfeyrac xxx_

Courfeyrac’s office was a former broom closet. There were too many people in charge – they rotated almost daily, since they all still had classes to attend – and there weren’t enough rooms for everyone to have their own office.

Since the door was open, Grantaire just waltzed inside and sat down in the spare chair. “What’s up?”

“I listened to _Speak Your Mind_ from last Friday.” Courfeyrac grinned. “It was pretty good. Actually, it was more than just pretty good. People liked you. They said you were funny.”

“They also said I was a movie snob and had no taste.”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “That was the minority, though. So, thanks for helping out.”

“Sure thing,” Grantaire mumbled, frowning when Courfeyrac kept staring at him. Maybe there was something on his face. Maybe some little shit had drawn a dick on his face while he’d been napping in the break room. _Again_. “What?”

“How would you feel about doing it again?”

“Hosting?”

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said, beaming at him. “You’re a natural.”

“What the hell would I be hosting?”

“Well, _Speak Your Mind_ , obviously.”

Grantaire frowned. “But that show already has a host.”

Courfeyrac’s expression darkened. “Not anymore.” He sighed. “She quit. For _personal reasons_. But I’ve heard rumors that she’s working at the Corinthe now. They obviously pay better and as far as I know the tips there are fantastic.”

“So you want me to be the new host?” Grantaire asked, narrowing his eyes. “There are about a billion people who are more qualified.”

“Yeah, but everyone already has their own segment and the people who work in research and all that usually do that for a reason,” Courfeyrac said. “And, you know, I’ve already mentioned this, but you were really good at it.” He pulled out his puppy eyes again. “Please?”

Grantaire really didn’t know if this was a good idea. Actually he did know. It wasn’t. “I don’t know, man.”

“I can give you about thirty minutes to think about it, because if you say no, I have four days to find someone else. And four days isn’t a lot of time if I want to find someone who isn’t totally incompetent.”

“What about one of the new kids?”

“Kid. There’s just one. The other one apparently left after about an hour. Anyway, the new guy’s name is Marius and as adorable as he is, he won’t be doing any on air talking.” Courfeyrac gave him a nudge. “So, what do you say?”

“I thought I had thirty minutes to think about it?”

“That was a very rough estimation, I actually meant more like thirty seconds.” Courfeyrac smiled at him. “I mean, I bet you had fun last Friday, didn’t you?”

Of course he’d had fun. That really wasn’t the point. He shrugged. “Are you sure that they liked me?”

“Yes, they did. I did, too.”

“And if they for some reason don’t like me anymore?”

“Then you’re fired,” Courfeyrac said and patted his cheek. “No, I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not,” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. It really didn’t matter, though, did it? Even if this ended up being some major catastrophe, he’d still be in charge of the website. He wouldn’t be completely fired. Just half-fired, in a way. “Okay, let’s say that I’ll do it…”

“Yeah?” Courfeyrac said, looking ridiculously hopeful.

“Can I give the show a different name?”

“ _No_ ,” Courfeyrac said sternly. “I’m not saying that it’d be a bad idea, but everyone already knows it as _Speak Your Mind_ and that’s what it’ll stay even if you change its name.”

“Fine,” Grantaire said, “I’ll still do it, but I’m not gonna talk about stuff like what to do when you’re lonely on Valentine’s Day.”

“I know, you want to talk about why Woody Allen is a douchenozzle.” Courfeyrac grinned. “I liked that. And, well, it’ll be your show, so can do whatever you want. No, actually you can’t. You’ll have to talk to whoever’s in charge at least one week before the show and if they say yes to the topic you’re good to go. And since your show is a Friday-show, guess what, I’m in charge of you.”

“Fantastic,” Grantaire said flatly.

“Your enthusiasm is admirable,” Courfeyrac said, his smile still in place. “So find a topic for Friday, alright? Quickly. We can do the paperwork later. If you need help, I think Cosette said she got a list with suggestions this morning?”

Grantaire only nodded and got up. He couldn’t wait to take a look at that list.

* * *

“Good evening and welcome to today’s episode of  _Speak Your Mind_ . My name’s Grantaire and before you ask, yes, it’s me again. Remember when I said that me being your host was an isolated incident last week? Well, I lied. I guess you’ll just have to deal with that.”

Cosette raised her hand to let him know that they already had a caller. Which was weird since he hadn’t even announced the topic yet. But yeah, apparently people called _a lot_. Apparently this show had been a one-man-thing in the beginning, but then they’d started getting a lot of rude and drunk callers, so Cosette sorted out the worst of them before she connected them to Grantaire. They had a long list of blocked numbers, too, which Grantaire thought was quite the achievement.

“Tonight’s topic,” Grantaire said, “is gender equality. We’d like to hear not only about your opinions, but also your experiences. If anyone thinks it necessary to make a sandwich joke, I’ll personally kick your ass.”

They’d had a pretty long discussion before they’d chosen this topic. Because, as it had turned out, Enjolras’ topic suggestions hadn’t been all bad. Still, this was a pretty big change compared to the usual topics and they’d obviously considered the possibility that a discussion topic like this one might attract a lot of assholes. In the end, they’d decided to give it a try. Even though Courfeyrac often talked about similar stuff in _Politics 101_ , he only explained the workings of the topic at hand. It was a recorded segment, so no one could call in and make uncalled-for jokes.

“And we already have a caller,” Grantaire went on. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hello, this is Enjolras.”

“Hello again,” Grantaire said. “How do you feel about today’s topic?”

“I have to say, I’m positively surprised,” Enjolras said and then proceeded to go on a five-minute rant that started with the wage gap and ended with an elaborate explanation of why there were more than two genders. “…I just felt like I should point that out, since a lot of people think that when we’re speaking about gender equality it’s only about men and women, but gender is a spectrum and it’s important not to forget that.”

“Thank you, Enjolras, for that incredibly detailed explanation,” Grantaire said. Honestly, there was nothing that he could possibly add to that.

“No need to sound so sarcastic,” Enjolras said gruffly. “People who don’t identify as male or female deserve recognition as well.”

Grantaire couldn’t believe this guy. “I never said that they didn’t.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, and how exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

Enjolras was silent for a moment. “Your attitude makes it pretty clear,” he said eventually.

Grantaire was briefly distracted when Cosette held up a sign. _Don’t start a fucking fight_. Fine, then. “Well, thank you for your input,” Grantaire said, even though he would have loved to keep talking to Enjolras, “let’s hear what our other callers have to say, shall we?”

* * *

It didn’t end there. Of course it didn’t. Enjolras was, according to Cosette, the most persistent caller she’d ever encountered.

“I’m going to have to block his number,” Cosette said before Grantaire’s fourth of fifth show. He was starting to lose count already. “Seriously, this show is about people voicing their opinion on things, not about you fighting with the same guy every week. I told you in the beginning, don’t start fucking fights.”

“But it’s so much fun,” Grantaire said, making a face. To be honest, he liked Enjolras. He liked talking to him, contradicting him, arguing with him. He liked getting emails from Enjolras about an hour after the end of the show saying _you’re wrong and here is why_. They weren’t fighting. Not really. They were having a fucking blast. Or at least he was. He couldn’t really speak for Enjolras.

“I got an email this morning,” Cosette said and held up a piece of paper. “ _Grantaire and that Enjolras dude should just fuck already_. I mean, come on.”

Grantaire only shrugged helplessly. He hardly knew a thing about Enjolras, but there was something about him. Something that made him want to talk back. It wasn’t his fault that his listeners seemed to have found some sexual tension between the lines.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t,” Cosette muttered. “Still, what’s happening when he calls totally defies the purpose of the show. So I’m blocking his number. Just email him and ask him out.”

“Why would I ask him out?”

“Because you want to,” Cosette said matter-of-factly. “You can argue in person. I’m sure it’d be even more fun.”

Grantaire only sighed. There wasn’t really anything he could do. Cosette had a point. He obviously wasn’t going to ask Enjolras out, because it was ridiculous to ask someone out when he barely even knew them. And even though he’d somehow managed to fall a little bit in love with that guy’s mind, all of their conversations had ended in arguments. And that probably wouldn’t be any different if they ended up talking face to face.

When Grantaire started the show a while later, he was actually a little sad that he wouldn’t get to talk to Enjolras today. So when he greeted his fourth caller of the night and asked for their name, he certainly didn’t expect them to say, “Hi, this is Enjolras, how are you today?”

Cosette, over in the other room, was staring at Grantaire in disbelief.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, trying his hardest not to laugh, “it’s so lovely to hear from you again.”

The second the show was over, Cosette came stomping into Grantaire’s booth. One day he’d have to ask her how she did that so quickly. “He tricked me,” Cosette said lowly, more to herself than to Grantaire, “he must have used someone else’s phone and I didn’t recognize his voice either. I’ll have to be more careful next week.”

“Aw, come on, we didn’t even argue for that long this time.”

“Do not,” Cosette only said, walking back out into the hallway, nearly bumping into Marius, who mumbled an apology and almost ran off, his face beet-red.

Grantaire laughed and pulled his laptop out of his bag, patiently waiting for Enjolras post-show email.

* * *

“How many friends does this guy have?”

“A lot, apparently,” Grantaire said, grinning at her. They kept getting emails, ranging from people asking whether he and Enjolras were dating to people offering to pay for hotel rooms so they could have angry sex.

Grantaire hadn’t told Enjolras about them, but if he’d ever taken a look at the comments section under the already aired episodes on the station’s website, he definitely knew what other people were thinking. And he didn’t care a bit. He kept calling, a different number every week.

Cosette shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

* * *

“He called from a really weird number tonight. I looked it up. It was a payphone, Grantaire. A fucking  _payphone_ .”

* * *

“Okay, that’s it.” Cosette was looking happy. Almost smug. Which was weird.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I recognized the number he called from today,” Cosette said, a manic glint in her eyes. Well, okay, Grantaire might have imagined that, but she looked so ridiculously delighted.

“You did?”

“It was Courfeyrac’s.”

“No fucking way.” Courfeyrac had watched Cosette get steadily more pissed off at Enjolras and had just told her to relax, because he wasn’t actually doing any harm. He must have been so entertained all this time. Grantaire was actually a little in awe.

Cosette laughed. “No, but you know, it makes sense. Remember when you first hosted the show and I was wondering if the Enjolras who called was the same Enjolras that Courfeyrac sometimes talks about? It must be him.” She grinned. “Which means that now I can find him.”

“And what exactly are you going to do when you find him?”

“I’m not so sure yet,” Cosette said. “Murder is out of the question, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

* * *

It was weird, knowing that Courfeyrac knew Enjolras. Grantaire could just ask him to introduce them, but there was a very good chance that Enjolras didn’t want to meet him. Enjolras didn’t like him. He just liked to tell Grantaire how wrong he was about pretty much everything. And Grantaire was okay with that. He had a feeling that if he met Enjolras in person, he’d be completely and utterly  _gone_ .

He’d thought about what Enjolras might look like, but he didn’t know whether he had slender hands or not, he just somehow was sure that he was gesticulating wildly whenever he talked about the things he was passionate about, and Grantaire didn’t know if Enjolras had blue or brown or green eyes, but he was sure that there was fire in them. It was tempting, getting a chance to see that fire, but in the end Grantaire was probably better off never meeting him.

Sometimes he still played with the thought of asking Courfeyrac about him. Or maybe asking Cosette about him. Because she’d obviously met him.

Enjolras still called, now with his regular number, but he kept his rants shorter. They were usually about five minutes long. Sometimes they were exactly five minutes long. Grantaire had a feeling that Cosette might have inflicted a time limit on him.

They still argued, though. Now via email, which made the whole thing even more ridiculous, since they were now sending huge chunks of text back and forth. Cosette still told him to ask him out every now and then. Grantaire considered it, sometimes when Enjolras made him laugh, when he said something so on point that Grantaire couldn’t even talk against it, but he didn’t actually have the guts to do it.

* * *

Courfeyrac:  _dinner at the musain? xx_

Courfeyrac: _i’m hungry and combeferre is doing weird experiments in the kitchen_

Courfeyrac: _i don’t wanna accidentally get poisoned or something_

Grantaire: _sure I’ll meet you at 7?_

Courfeyrac: _lovely xx_

Grantaire somehow made it to the Musain on time. No one was as surprised as himself. Because Courfeyrac wasn’t even there to be surprised. Grantaire checked his phone and found a message from Courfeyrac, telling him to just find a seat because he’d be a little late. Grantaire told him not to worry and sat down at one of his favorite tables by the window.

He played on his phone while he waited, hardly noticing when a guy sat down at the table next to his. When his phone stopped being interesting, Grantaire looked up, gazing around the café, eventually looking at the guy at the other table. He was Greek-god-level beautiful, blond curls tied back, a vaguely annoyed look on his face. He was also talking to someone on the phone. It wasn’t his looks that had really struck Grantaire, it was his voice.

Because Grantaire knew that voice. It was the same exact voice that delivered a five-minute rant on his radio show every Friday evening.

“Well, when are you going to be here?” he was asking, fingers restlessly tapping on the table. “Fine, I’ll wait. See you in a bit.” He hung up, narrowing his eyes at Grantaire. “Can I help you?”

Right, he wouldn’t know it was him. There was no picture of Grantaire on the station’s website. “I’m just… you…” Well, there was a good chance that he just sounded exactly like Enjolras and that it wasn’t actually him. “Your voice sounds really familiar,” Grantaire said eventually.

The guy’s eyes went wide. “Grantaire?” Okay, maybe it was actually him after all.

“Yeah, that would be me,” Grantaire mumbled, laughing nervously. “Nice to meet you, I guess?”

“This is…” Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t even…”

“I honestly wouldn’t have thought that anything could ever render you speechless.”

“No, it’s just you’re…”

“Not what you expected?” Grantaire asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, that’s not it,” Enjolras said, smiling at him, “but this is just such a weird coincidence.”

“It is,” Grantaire mumbled, checking his phone again. Courfeyrac hadn’t sent him another message. Maybe now was a good time to finally follow through on Cosette’s advice. “You know, I’m actually waiting for a friend, but do you want to join me until he gets here?”

“You’re waiting for a friend?” Enjolras asked, brows knit together. “It’s not Courfeyrac, is it?”

“Yeah, actually…”

“Oh,” Enjolras only said, grinning all of a sudden. “That’s who I’m waiting for as well.”

“Wait, what?” Courfeyrac hadn’t mentioned that he’d invited Enjolras as well. “He didn’t say–”

“No, he didn’t.” Enjolras bit his lip. “You know, I don’t think he’s coming. See, I might have mentioned that I’d really like to meet you.”

Grantaire laughed. Of course he wasn’t coming. “That’s actually… not really surprising.” Courfeyrac had definitely just set him up. And Grantaire would have to find a way to thank him for it somehow.

“It’s not,” Enjolras agreed and stood up to join Grantaire at his table. “Even if he does show up, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company until then.”

Grantaire took a deep breath. Now or never. “So, can I buy you dinner?”

“Only if you explain to me what the hell you meant when you said that _people don’t care about things like the environment unless there’s something in it for them_. There is something _in it for them_ when they try not to completely destroy the planet they live on.”

“I’m really not the one you have to tell that,” Grantaire said, smirking at him.

Enjolras told him anyway. And it took much longer than five minutes. Grantaire was more than happy to listen.


End file.
